


meet the family

by loserrobin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Themes, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Homosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserrobin/pseuds/loserrobin
Summary: Concept : Jon gets the displeasure of meeting Randyll and Dickon Tarly.Setting : Modern AU.Warning : Homophobia, awkwardness, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending.Word Count : 650.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Samwell Tarly
Kudos: 22





	meet the family

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has active homophobic characters and references to homophobia in it. If that is too painful for you to read, skip this fic! I have more fluffy ones for you to enjoy if angst is not the fic you're looking for.

Sam’s nerves were shot long before dinner. He’d tried to remain quiet and unseen for the most part as Jon made pleasant conversation with his mother. She appeared delighted to meet his… “friend” (never _boyfriend_ as it should be, not while his father was around). Sam knows his mother’s invitation is good-hearted, wants to see her son happy.

His mother and sisters’ hugs couldn’t shake the lingering cold in the room when Randyll Tarly’s glare pierced through him. While his father hadn’t said anything yet, just ruminated in disapproval, Dickon was a more vocal.

“So what is this exactly?” Dickon points his fork between them, tone mocking. “Doesn’t your kind of people like someone better looking? Don’t you all wear pink and rainbow?”

Sam chokes on his drink and Melessa sends her youngest son a sharp look. Randyll, as expected, says nothing, silently encouraging the harassment. Jon’s temper starts to show by the redness of his ears, but years of bombardment from homophobes has thickened his skin when it came to exposure.

“You’ve seen too many movies. If you want to understand people that are different than you, we live in a time with many resources.” Jon sends his signature deadpan look that screams ‘ _I think you’re a waste of time_ ’.

It’s a subtle insult, enough to make Dickon’s sneer morph into frown.

“The chicken is wonderful,” Sam chimes in, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Before his mother can accept the praise, Randyll Tarly finally speaks. “Sickness.”

“Pardon me?” Jon’s voice is a challenge. He knows where this is going, has been the subject of enough ‘ _get the evil out of you!_ ’ religious talks.

“You’re a sickness. I’m disgraced by my son and my home has been invaded with you.”

The pretense is gone when silverwave hits the table, scraping a plate with a terrible sound. The abrupt stand pushes Jon’s chair back, eyes dark and angry. “The only disgusting thing here is a father that cannot care for his son. I haven’t come here for you, I came here for Sam and the family he loves. But I will not sit here and watch you torture the rest of us.”

Belatedly, Sam also stands, taking Jon’s hand gently and pulling him away. He smiles sadly at his mother, but she holds no ill will towards their decision. “We should go - next time we can have dinner at our apartment.”

“I’ll bring the good company,” Melessa promises and doesn’t appear bothered at her husband’s affronted demeanor.

Talla wipes her mouth with a napkin before walking them to the door, apologies whispered between them. “I hoped… well, I hoped they could be civil for dinner at least.”

“Too much to hope for, it seems.” As sad as it makes Sam, he knew little could be done.

“I’d love to see what you did with your apartment. But be warned - mother will not be silenced if she doesn’t see enough knick knacks.”

Sam’s smile curves towards genuine amusement. “Makes the house feel brighter!”

“Mother’s motto,” Talla says at Jon’s inquiring look. She kisses both their cheeks and waves them goodbye as they drive away.

Jon taps on the steering wheel, an anxious habit. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? That was… well, it was pleasant for at least ten minutes.”

A grimace, one of guilt. “I wanted to let it pass, but I couldn’t sit there after what your father said. You’re not a disgrace, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” spoken quietly. It took meeting Jon for him to feel okay with himself, for acknowledging the fact that he did like men, at the very least that he was happy to be with Jon.

At a red light Jon leans over the center console to kiss him. Sam still feels butterflies in his stomach every time their lips connect. It feels sweet and right, and Sam is happy to go back home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this far! If you like my work, be sure to check out my other fic and profile! I'm opening January requests on my tumblr ([loserrobin)](https://loserrobin.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


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